


in echoes from that time

by whiffingbooks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auror Harry Potter, Christmas Gift to you all, F/M, Incognito Elf, Writer Ginny Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiffingbooks/pseuds/whiffingbooks
Summary: "It's a nonsensical book filled with stories of my nonsensical family. This will be with you, my readers, for when you need it. Not now, not then. Not here, not there. But someday, for somewhere."
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 37
Collections: 2020 Hinny Discord Incognito Elf Exchange!





	in echoes from that time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [displayheartcode](https://archiveofourown.org/users/displayheartcode/gifts).



> I hope you guys love this! Clarensjoy was lovely enough to beta this gift to one of my most favourite people. This is part of the 2020 Hinny Discord Incognito Elf Exchange.
> 
> If you want to talk to me, don't forget to ping me on [whiffingbooks](https://whiffingbooks.tumblr.com/)

_ The intricacies of the sport, as we discover later on, lie not on the various rules imposed on it over the years, but rather on the loopholes which the cunning, or often accidentally brilliant, players exploit to win the deadly Quidditch matches. Looking upon the field, one might be tempted to wonder, "Does this sport make sense? Or is it just a bunch of hastily conjured actions assembled to resemble a sport?" To which I say-- _

"Idle hands aid the devil's workshop. Or more likely, the Flutterwacken's." Ginny squeaked as candyfloss (hair) floated into her vision. Her quill skidded across the parchment.

Xenophilius Lovegood stared at her, unfazed at her surprise.

"Oh, dear. You spilt some ink on your paper." He pointed his wand at the spilt ink, siphoning it slowly. "How's the article going?"

She stood up, throwing her hands to stop the chair from crashing. A blush rose on her cheeks. She headed to the table straining under the weight of the numerous papers. Casting a glance towards the distracted man, she let out a sigh of relief.

Her gross misconduct had not given him the ground for her dismissal.

"Here it is, Mr Lovegood. You are certain about this?" Gritting her teeth, she wrenched out the thick file from beneath a huge paper mache of the Dodo.

He took the file from her. "Why wouldn’t I be, dear? Peekaboos are splendid. People must be well aware of their beauty."

Ginny sighed; his response was exactly as she feared. The Lovegoods never cared about scientific or photographic evidence. An irony, considering that Luna was training to be a Magizoologist.

"Well, it's just..." She hesitated. "You got a lot of complaints because of the last issue. Maybe we should do some generic stuff." She remembered the boils her skin had suffered from. All because Mr Lovegood decided to publish an unexplored article on how wizards used to vanish their faeces in the Middle Ages which were used to make bowls for the children in Hogwarts. The letters were rather nasty following the scandalous issue.

Xenophilius gazed at her, his eyes clearing from the ever-present haze to give off his disapproval at her passivity.

"You must never let others dictate your life, dear. Why, if my daughter let the comments regarding her genetic sanity ruin her perception of herself, do you think she would have the guts to go after the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"

For Luna's sake, Ginny hoped her friend was off hunting down (real) creations rather than (Erumpent horns born of) bizarre imagination. But she refrained from saying so.

She wasn't a flimsy girl, but no good came out of arguing with the Lovegoods. They were as foolhardy as the Weasleys in a different manner, believing in their version of the truth that rarely made sense to the rest of the world.

That was also one of the reasons why she loved these two.

"As you wish," she sighed. "But you're opening the mail from now on. My hands can't take any more pus."

Xenophilius didn't pay heed to her words. He hummed while caressing the file like it was a precious artefact, sashaying towards his study with no concern for the eventual ruckus his article would make. Ginny made to sit down, her mind moving to the abandoned article which she should have been working on instead of dallying around with something not worth any salt. That was when Xenophilius spoke up.

"I believe you asked for some time off this afternoon." It was less of a question, more a statement. She glanced at the nearby clock. It was nearly twelve. Her interview wasn't until two in the afternoon.

"Yes. I have some urgent work." Her guilt surfaced, just as it did yesterday when she approached her boss for an afternoon off without any explanation on why she was leaving him to fend for himself.

"You must go on, dear. Helios waits for no one." Jarringly, he gave her a knowing smile, his eyes holding not a shred of the usual glass-eyed look. 

She startled at his instruction, not because of the mention of Helios. "I can work for another hour. I need to finish this piece on-"

He interrupted, shaking his candy floss locks. "Luncheon settles your nerves. You must get a cuppa too. You're shaky today."

Smiling strangely, he headed inside. He called out behind him, "Give my regards to Stephen. He doesn't like me much." 

The door shut.

Ginny looked around. The Lovegood residence hadn't changed much since her childhood days, but the clutter was cleared away. She sat in the dining room where she poured over article after article, scribbling until the ink set in deeper than blood. Xenophilius then typed it up, leaving the job of publishing the paper to her. He was old so she took up the bulk of the physical work.

She loved it. But she didn't want to be known as the wacky lady who wrote up mildly offensive articles in the Quibbler anymore.

Heaving a sigh, she pushed back her chair. She opened her drawer, gingerly taking out the file. It was her life's work, the one she loved the most. 

Her life story.

Stephen Ainsworth was the editor of the most famous magical publication, Ainsworth Publishing House. He was a wanker, according to the reports, but he was good at his job. If Ginny was able to get him to publish her story...

But it was a difficult job, it was turning out to be. She was twenty-one and after one year of badgering the man, he finally granted her the interview. That afternoon.

She didn't have high hopes. No one's first book got accepted easily. But she was a Weasley, damn it. And they didn't settle for anything other than what they wanted.

She stood up. There was a broken mirror in the corner of the room that always made her look fat. She put on her cloak and shoved the file inside her purse before striding over to stand in front of the mirror. She glanced at her reflection. She was dressed in a sober yet youthful blue blouse and skirt that didn't make her hair resemble a tomato. Overall, she was pleased of her appearance and hoped, for one ridiculous second, Ainsworth would soften upon seeing her dressed so well before she banished that thought.

Instead, Ginny fixed the mirror with her fiercest glare and spoke clearly:

"You're Ginny Weasley. You've wanted to publish your book for years. And you're not heading out of there with anything other than a resounding 'yes'."

She tugged her locks at the back of her ears and walked out of the door. Hoping for her dream to come alive.

* * *

"Can I get an iced coffee? " Ginny needed to work on her article for the upcoming issue. Unbidden, the interview flashed before her eyes. The Editor's words still rang in her head, causing a lump to rise in her throat.

You won't cry. You won't.

She was afraid that she was quite close to breaking her inner mantra.

"Hey."

"Great," she whispered. Surely, the man was about to tell her off for stagnating the queue as she rummaged in her purse for some Muggle notes.

A hand grasped her upper elbow gently. Shocked, she turned around. A pair of green eyes met hers.

"You okay?"

Ginny's inner, struggling writer usually never popped up when she needed her to. Instead, the hussy reared her head up when rather fit blokes gently wrapped their fingers around her arm.

"You have the typical Byronic hero look," she blurted out.

The tall, dark and handsome man blinked in confusion. "What?"

"No, I mean… You, uh… " She was visibly flustered. Gesturing to his entire frame, she stammered, "I, uh, I didn't mean to… It wasn't objectification. It's just you look like how I usually picture Byronic heroes. Except less dour, I suppose."

Ginny wondered whether he would pull a Mr Darcy and scowl at her for being a ditzy girl while inwardly swooning over her brown eyes.

The stranger did not follow up on her fantastic imagination.

He pointed to the frothy cold coffee kept on top of the counter. An irritated teen glared at her for making her wait.

"Your order's ready, miss."

"Oh, fuck. Sorry for being a twat. Keep the change." She handed the cashier a £5 note as she hastily took up her drink, her fingers aching from the sudden cold.

She was heading towards the back of the cosy little cafe when she heard a shout.

"Hey! Wait up."

Turning around, she saw the delicious looking stranger making his way towards her, one hand fiddling with his round glasses and the other holding a steaming cup.

"What?" She tried to lighten her voice to hide her tiredness but judging by his worried expression, she must have failed.

"I wanted to check on you. You zoned out over there for some time." The hand now left his glasses and he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. As if showing concern over the well-being of a stranger was a habit of his which he was trying to shake off.

Her eyes teared up.

His green eyes widened. He took a few steps towards her, vaguely reminding her of Arnold, her late Pygmy Puff, who used to widen his eyes in panic and snuggle up to her if she was upset. Her heart warmed at the memory, softening her countenance towards the man.

"Nothing." She cleared her throat. "I just had a shitty day. "

He didn't nod and move away at her assurance as she intended. Instead, he pointed to the nearest vacant table.

"Why don't you tell me about it? I'll be goddamn happy to listen to someone else's sobbing tale. Will be a change in pace."

Ginny snorted. "I'll be the sadder sod in this battle of breaking boredom or something."

He grinned then; a beaming smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Her breath caught at the sight.

He led her towards the table. Upon seeing him about to pull back a chair, she shook her head. He didn't miss a beat; smiling, he pulled back his own chair and sat down.

For a girl who dated Dean Thomas, his immediate acquiescence was charming.

"I didn't know they still served iced coffee in this weather." He turned to the nearby window to see the outside scenery. Days until the new year started and England was bathed in snow everywhere. It started snowing much earlier than the other years.

"They do, only to the brave ones," she joked, surreptitiously wiping away the tears that managed to leak out.

His reply was cut off when the door of the small cafe opened and a family entered. They were rowdy, especially the child no older than ten who was decked in a party hat. She carried a horse stuffed toy that resembled the pinata Ginny's brothers once blew up in Hogwarts and nearly got expelled for.

Ginny groaned. "Great. First, I get rejected. And now I have to listen to some child whine about not getting her favourite biscuit."

Her stranger laughed. He brought his cup to his mouth, blowing on it. She fought the urge to laugh as his glasses fogged up.

"Rejected?" He kept down his cup and leaned forward slightly. Her amusement died at the memory of a smirking Stephen Ainsworth, his mocking reading of her manuscript.

"Yeah." She hesitated before throwing caution to the wind. What was the big deal of having to hide from a muggle when he was being more thoughtful than anyone else was about to be? "I'm an aspiring author. Seems like that position will remain unchanged."

He mouthed 'Oh'. She laughed mirthlessly, "No, shit. I could have done without him reading my manuscript aloud and mocking me openly." A thought occurred to her. "Wait, I didn't ask your name."

Hearing her, he paused drinking his concoction. He didn’t fidget or hesitate at all. Steadily, he answered, “Gary”. 

But she got an inkling he was lying. Maybe it was the true crime books she had inhaled or growing up with two of the best liars, but she caught his lie redhanded. His behaviour rankled her. So, the first decent man she met in a year and he had the audacity to lie about his name.

Muggles were strange, she decided.

"Your name is Gary?" She drawled out, drinking slowly as she kept eye contact with him. His face flushed, but he did not look away from her. For some frustrating reason. she liked it.

"Yeah. What's yours?" He casually sipped his drink.

"Pinata," she said without missing a beat. Imposter Gary nearly choked.

Coughing, he asked, amusement warring with disbelief, "Your name is Pinata?"

"Yes."

"Is it your real name?" He said incredulously.

"It could be." She pointed out. "Fair's fair."

For a while, they stayed silent. Gary let out a giggle which made her chuckle and soon they were laughing without giving a thought to the pissed off customers who were glaring at them.

"It's not even funny. Why am I laughing?" She wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes. Gary took off his glasses to do the same and she was struck by his vibrant eyes again.

"Your body can't take all this stress. Sometimes, I start cackling when I'm overwhelmed. I'll give you three guesses about what my colleagues think."

She surveyed him. He looked like her age. She wondered about his profession and was about to ask when she decided against it. He had already lied to her about his name. She didn't want him to lie about something she wouldn't be able to verify was true or not.

"Your manuscript is there." He nodded towards her purse. Later, she would ponder how he concluded that anything bigger than a spoon could fit inside her flimsy bag, but now, she was too distracted.

"Yeah. I might burn it when I return home. Stick to what I know best."

"Failing?" He offered.

Faking offence, she leaned forward to shove him lightly. Her fingers tingled as they came in contact with his coat.

She was so not better than those lovesick girls she used to mock.

"I'm joking." He put up his eyes. "But you shouldn't. It was one out of hundreds. You'll get someone else."

"Maybe. It's just..." She bit her lip, debating whether to tell him about her real wish. "I chose the publication for a reason."

"Why?"

"It's personal. I haven't told anyone about this. Ever." How could she say Stephen Ainsworth, the wanker who humiliated her in front of everyone who worked there, was one of her inspirations? That she started writing after she inhaled every one of his books in a month when she was younger?

She didn't want Gary. however cute he was, to offer platitudes or something like, "Your idols are always tossers".

Perhaps, he understood.

"Okay. Keep your secrets," he smiled, but his eyes were serious as if to say she could keep her secret and he wouldn't pry.

"Thanks," she said shyly. Glancing out, she saw the sky had darkened. The snow had started falling faster. She needed to get to the flat before it got too late. Otherwise, Ron would suffer from a heart attack.

"I'd love to hear something you wrote," Gary kept his empty cup beside hers.

Ginny startled. No one had asked that before. She didn't have any ready to serenade him.

Panicking, her inner writer took hold of her and she recited: "His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad." She slapped her hands over her mouth.

Gary started chuckling. "Did you just make that up?"

Deciding she already lost her dignity today, she said. "Yes. On my defence, your eyes are very green. I couldn't help it."

His chuckles died down. He gazed at her intensely, his eyes a deep forest green she always liked.

"I'm honoured." His ears coloured, but he smiled softly at her.

"I thought it was horrible?"

"Oh, it is. Absolutely." He agreed. "But I liked it."

"Small mercies," she quipped.

The dark gloom around her had almost disappeared. She felt light-hearted. And hopeful. A combination she didn't think she was ever going to feel.

Gary looked down at his watch.

"I need to go. I have a few things I need to do," he said apologetically.

"Oh. I need to too."

They stood up. Ginny resisted the urge to take out her wand to banish the cups to the kitchen. Her mum had done a number on her since she couldn't have a pleasant chat with a bloke without thinking about the tonnes of cleaning the workers do.

"I had a nice time," she said. He replied, "Me too."

She wanted to see him again. But he didn't give her a phone number or anything and she didn't have a phone. What was she thinking, sitting and daydreaming about talking to him again?

A weight settled at her chest.

Gary opened the door for her. Smiling, she ducked down, repressing the urge to curse as a wave of coldness assaulted her.

"So..." He wrung his hands. The snowflakes landing on his messy curls endeared him more. And then she knew, she was never going to forget him. This moment, this encounter was going to stay with her forever.

"I had fun. You really took my mind off everything. I dread facing it later." She wasn't going to tell Ron about her failed attempt. Her brother had a habit of trying to cocoon her despite knowing she was more than capable.

"Y'know..." He stopped. Shyly, he asked, "Would you like some advice?"

"Sure."

"I know that you didn't get what you wanted. But that doesn't mean things can't get better." He swiped a hand through his locks, blanching when a trail of melting snow came in contact. "There's this saying... Well, not exactly saying. More like a...a theorem, I suppose."

Gary shoved his hands inside his pockets and pinned her with a determined look.

"Parallel lines meet at infinity. I think, for me, it means it may seem impossible, but doesn't mean it won't happen. It will happen, just not when you want it to happen. Not when you know it will happen or even how it will happen. But there's a certainty it will happen."

He blushed after his spiel. "At least, that's how I interpret it."

Ginny continued to stare at him, floored by his words. It will happen. Not now, not here, not this way. But it will.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly. An idea started forming at the back of her mind.

What had Xenophilius said? Stephen hated him, didn't he?

"Anyway, I should go." His words broke into her burgeoning plan. He looked sad. "Do you come here often?"

"What a flirt," she joked. "I'll be coming here every day for that."

He smiled. "Hey, I was not the one who flirted with horrible poetry."

She gasped in mock affront. She lightly slapped his arm, but he caught her hand before she could wrench it back. Her breath caught.

"See you tomorrow?" She asked, mindful of the small distance between them. He must have too as he dropped her hand and stepped back.

"Sure." His eyes dimmed, but Ginny attributed it to the darkening sky. "Same time."

"I need to go now." She didn't want to move. But Gary had already waved her goodbye and was turning around to head to the other side.

"Wait!" Not caring about the time ticking by and a restless Ron waiting home, she surged forward and yanked his collar down. She planted a kiss at his jaw. A heady scent invaded her senses and she pulled back only to lightly kiss him.

Gary let out a surprised gasp. Before he could either shove her away or pull her closer, she stepped away from him. She jammed her knitted cap on her head and turned around.

"Bye!" she yelled back, her fingers touching her still tingling lips. She peeked a glance behind her to see Gary standing, his hand clasped over his mouth.

Giggling, she headed to the alley nearby. Her heartbeat calmed, but there was a thrum of pleasure inside her.

"Tomorrow," she promised. She'd take her lunch break hours later. But Ginny would be there for her stranger.

Somewhere, she heard a car backfire. She didn't pay any attention to it. With a much better mood, she Disapparated to her flat, her thoughts revolving around the next day.

Little did she know, she wouldn't meet Gary the next day. Or the next week. Or the next month.

* * *

_ Carrow looked at me with amusement in his eyes. I didn't put down my wand, no matter how defenceless he seemed. Carrow resembled a snake when it had been cornered: a cruel smile lifting his pale, thin lips and his body coiling for an attack. I made a minuscule move to get near when he-- _

"I worry about you." Harry didn't jump upon hearing his partner's voice behind him. Unperturbed, he debated whether he should write how Carrow's hair shone in the dim light. "What's there to worry about?"

Ron Weasley laughed. He took up one of the Auror reports Harry had completed an hour back and made his way to the desk opposite Harry's.

"Hmm." Ron cleared his throat. Taking up a shrill voice, probably mocking Harry's writing expertise, he stated: "The one half of the duo, Alecto Carrow, was a ball of rage and resentment. I wanted a female Auror on the site, but there was no time. Carrow didn't seem like the type to wait for me to follow the proper procedure. She took out her tiny wand and pointed at me. With a roar, she yelled--" Ron cut himself off by chuckling.

Harry leaned forward and snatched the paper out of Ron's hands.

"What? That is exactly what happened!"

"Mate, I'm no writer. But your imagination is worth quite some galleons. Maybe you should nip down to the Witch Weekly office and ask them to print it in their Sultry Section next month," Ron said amusedly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just because you have an elusive writer in your family--"

"--makes me the perfect candidate to judge."

Harry shook his head. He found Ron to be a laugh, but joking about his paperwork was a sore spot he couldn't shake off.

"What am I even supposed to write then?" Harry demanded.

"Dear Robards, Carrow tried to smack me. I stunned her instead. No women were there so I waited until one female Auror showed up. I really showed that Death Eater who's the boss. XOXO," Ron recited. Harry wondered if he wrote that in his report.

"I thought you were supposed to be related to a writer."

"Who do you think helped me write it?" Ron asked, making Harry lose his frown and chuckle.

"Even if I wanted to, Robards would have my arse. I'd rather write this shit." Harry wished Robards was a bit less uptight about his paperwork. Why couldn't the Aurors just do all of the legwork and none of the paperwork?

Ron nodded but changed the topic.

"You're coming this Sunday, right? Ginny's finally about to be back from her tour."

"Oh," Harry paused making his paper aeroplane. "Wouldn't it be...weird?"

"Why?" Ron frowned. "You haven't met her. And you know all of us."

"Exactly. So, springing me on her isn't really a good welcoming gift." Harry didn't know Ginny personally, but he assumed she wouldn't want her family dinner to be interrupted by a stranger.

"That's why it's good for you to meet up. If it gets weird, we'll get both of you drunk. How about it?"

"Ron..." Harry sighed.

"No. I won't hear it. There are two more days and she's about to have some book signing this Friday afternoon at Flourish and Blotts. You won't be backing out anytime soon." Ron sounded remarkably like Molly when he was scolding Harry.

Feeling affection for his partner and friend, Harry joked, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to set me up with your sister."

His laughter died when Ron laughed weakly and said, "Sure. Sure. Why would I want to?"

"You're not, are you?" Harry frowned.

Ron shook his head, his red hair a blur. "Definitely not! I mean, I'm sure you both will get along swimmingly. Also, my sister doesn't look like a cow. And it's not as if you both haven't been single for ages. So, if you both have a spark, y'know..." He gestured vaguely.

Before Harry could question anymore, Parvati Patil poked her head inside their shared cubicle.

"Hey, Potter! Robards wants you in his office."

"Why?" He asked.

She shrugged. "Who knows. Get off your bum and ask him yourself." She walked away.

"Duty calls," Harry sighed. Ron nodded in sympathy before opening a case file. "I think I have an idea what it's about."

Harry startled. "You do?"

Shrewdly, Ron said, "Mate, you better use this opportunity." 

* * *

Harry knocked on Robards' office door. A booming voice called out "Come in!" and he entered.

Robards - a man with salt and pepper hair and a permanent scowl - was bent over his desk, not at all paying attention to the new occupant of the room.

Harry cleared his throat, but Robards didn't acknowledge him. After approximately five minutes, Robards looked up.

"Here you are! I thought you weren't about to come."

"I've been standing here..." Harry trailed off. Robards didn't look interested in his explanation.

"Sit down, Potter. I have an assignment for you."

Harry went and sat down on the chair opposite. He winced; the chair was like Robards, stiff and inciting back pain.

"How much do you know about Ginny Weasley?" Robards asked.

Harry's eyebrows lifted. "Ron Weasley's sister? Award-winning writer?"

"Yes, yes." Robards waved as if her titles were unimportant. "She's about to do this signing this Friday in Flourish and Blotts. You're going to be her bodyguard. It's in the afternoon."

That was a surprise. Not necessarily a welcoming one.

Harry groaned. "I have Auror duty in Bristol, tracking down the potions trafficker." He wanted to protest some more, but his boss quelled him with a look.

"I would have assigned Weasley. but I don't want personal relationships between the Auror and the subject. Too messy. Weasley has to be professional. I don't think he can manage that."

"Ron Weasley is a capable Auror!"

Robards rolled his eyes and stood up. "No one's saying anything else, Potter. Go to your desk. I want you to arrive at Flourish and Blotts an hour before to meet up with Ginny Weasley before her signing. Now, off with you."

"Have you even talked to Ron about this?" Harry demanded.

Robards rolled his eyes. "Who do you think suggested you in the first place?"

* * *

Harry stood at the corner of the bookstore on a warm Friday afternoon under his invisibility cloak. The store was full of people from different age groups, a surprising scene. A small book pressed against the back of his robes and he felt slightly nervous at the prospect of coming face to face with the writer.

Ron had been unimpressed at Harry's protests.

"You both need to meet face to face beforehand. You'll lose your nerves. Also, don't forget to flatter my sister with your devotion to that little copy."

He liked Weasley's books, but his favourite was her first book. Now, an underrated novel when compared to her other projects.

He took out the battered copy of Short and Weasley. The words 'published by The Quibbler' made him smile. Harry had been pleasantly surprised when Xenophilius Lovegood actually published a book. Even more when it turned out to be one of the best he had ever read.

His parents had laughed at his loyalty to the small book, but he never paid much attention to them. Ginny Weasley's writing was funny, quirky and often filled with dark humour. Her family was huge and the shenanigans they had were hilarious to read. His favourite portion of the story was how the twins once destroyed the bathrooms at Hogwarts to send a toilet seat to their sister.

Harry didn't have any siblings; a gap filled by those enthusiastic Weasley tales and the foreward:

_ "It's a nonsensical book filled with stories of my nonsensical family. This will be with you, my readers, for when you need it. Not now, not then. Not here, not there. But someday, for somewhere." _

Harry had seen Ginny Weasley's grainy pictures once or twice on papers and a few childhood pictures Molly had shown him. He hadn't ever sought her out, despite loving her writing, because he wanted to keep the memory of the strange Muggle alive. To whom he had said something similar.

He supposed his love for her quips stemmed from the nostalgia and wishful thinking of Pinata, the pretty, aspiring author he had met in the cafe. Harry encountered her only once. It was enough to want to keep seeing her again and again. But the day after their meeting, he had been called away on a mission to Scotland.

By the time he returned, he decided it was too late to search for her. The longing to do it was too intense.

He kept on revisiting those few moments he spent with her over the next three years, wishing he had the guts to get her contact information. But the past was the past and no amount of wistful thinking would change it.

He prayed she got her book published.

Harry had searched for her casually. But none of the authors he encountered had a cheeky smile, bright brown eyes and vibrant red hair.

He shook his thoughts away. No need to think about what-ifs. He needed to meet up with Ginny Weasley before the signing started.

He slid past the crowd of chattering blokes and gossiping biddies stealthily. He nearly stepped on a small child in the process but balanced himself at the last moment. Jogging towards the room where the writer was supposed to rest, he pushed open the door and slid in. With a sigh, he took off his cloak.

"Potter," Mr Johnson, the manager, called out. He was standing near the entrance beside a refreshments table.

"Mr Johnson. You'll be here, I presume?" Harry shook his hand.

"Ah, yes. My assistant and my staff will handle the customers. You have to take care of Ginny Weasley." Mr Johnson nodded to a few voices growing steadily closer towards the room.

Harry frowned, "Surely, Miss Weasley is under protection. Her books might be triggering to the Pureblood Elitists, but not blatant enough to make herself a huge target." Ginny Weasley had haters too, for her general indifference and disrespect towards the Pureblood culture and frank manner of addressing the deep-rooted issues. In her first book, she wrote about her family's poverty and lack of social status with a mixture of satire and irony. From her first words, she had incited controversy among the conservatives, but not enough to be targeted.

Robards would have told him if that was the case.

"Oh, no-no. Miss Weasley is capable of taking care of herself. A bit too capable." Mr Johnson shot him a meaningful look. "I remember when she was a child. Found every reading material on sports once. When my former assistant told her off, she threw a shoe at him." He frowned. "I don't think I should feel apprehension at the thought of facing a twenty-four-year-old."

Harry laughed.

There was a knock at the door. "It's open," Mr Johnson announced and Ginny Weasley walked in.

Years later, when Harry would be asked about that moment, he would claim to be struck by her loveliness. The papers hadn't done her any justice. He wanted to go and yell at the paper office and their awful photograph quality.

At that moment though, Harry was ramrod straight. He didn't think he'd ever see those eyes peering at him with the same steady look again. He supposed he could finally feel relief at finding out what her real name was instead of addressing her as Pinata in his head.

"What the..." Her eyes widened. Did she recognize him? "You're Ron's friend?"

So, she didn't recognize him. A part of him shrivelled at the thought. He remembered. He recognized her even now when her hair was styled differently and she looked far happier.

But she didn't.

"Yeah, I am," he croaked out. "You're his sister?"

"I never imagined..." She trailed off. Automatically, she took a step closer to him. "I didn't think we'd meet. Again. And you know Ron..."

His breath hitched.

Unperturbed at the emotional scene, Mr Johnson introduced them. "Mr Harry Potter, this is our star for the day - Ginny Weasley. Miss Weasley, this is your Auror. He's tasked with your safety until the signing ends. Please, familiarize yourselves and..."

Mr Johnson spoke more of the refreshments and the hospitality bestowed upon Miss Weasley, but Harry tuned him out. She was dressed in a flowery summer dress with a denim jacket on top. She was still petite. Why he thought she would have grown tall was a mystery.

She was nodding her head, but her eyes continued to wander off towards Harry. As if she was struck by his appearance too.

Harry had never considered the possibility that she might have been a witch. Or worse, she had waited for him. If she did wait for him while he was wandering the streets, broken-hearted yet firm in his decision...

"I'll leave you both to get acquainted. We still have fifty minutes until it starts. We'll holler for you." Soon, it was only the two of you left.

He expected her to rail at him for being absent, or to not talk at all. What he didn't expect was the sudden burst of her giggles.

"Sorry. Sorry." She tried to stop, but another onslaught took over her. With her shoulders shaking, she spoke up, "You...You're Harry. An...Auror. And...Out of all the lies...You said your name was Gary! Could it be any lamer? Also, you're like Ron's closest mate." Her eyes were alight with joy. "You were just within reach and as a bumbling idiot, I assumed you were a no-good Muggle who catfished women."

Harry couldn't stop his hysterical laughter either. Soon, both of them were giggling like school children. He didn't know what was actually funny, but the situation and his inability to come up with convincing lies at times made him chuckle so hard that his stomach started hurting.

When the last of the giggles died down, he held out his hand. "I've never properly introduced myself. I'm Harry. Gary was my alter ego."

"Hmm, I liked Gary pretty much, I admit." She winked. Her hand clasped his and a pleasant warmth shot through his arm. Harry really was a goner.

"I do too. But his appearances are painfully limited. Just like Pinata?"

"Haha," she said sarcastically albeit a smile lit up her face. "I guess you're stuck with Ginny instead. She's a little bitch."

"Exactly my type." Before he could curse his mouth, Ginny laughed. "You have a good type."

Harry glanced at the clock kept on a table. Thirty minutes left until the signing commenced.

"We have some time. I'd love to know more about you." She sat down on the sturdy couch, patting next to her. He hesitated for a while before flopping down. He wanted to know her better. It would also help him if some misfortune befell and he could spirit her far away. "I feel like I already know you. Ron is a sharer."

"That he is," he agreed. "I can't believe this. Who knew Ron would be our mutual contact?"

"Not me," she said. "I'm a bit surprised you never found me. I might not go out of my way to show off my face, but I believe I have a few pictures circulating. Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly did a few interviews."

"Two of my most hated newspapers." She let out a laugh. She had a nice laugh, he concluded. "I did glimpse at a few, but I never connected the dots. What an Auror."

"One who doesn't jump to conclusions." She paused. "Not always. I had a great laugh over the Malfoy incident. Ron took great pleasure in it."

She didn't bother to hold back her chuckles as Harry groaned, thinking about the incident. He had made a complete fool out of himself, resulting in desk duty for a week. Of course, Ron would take the mickey out of him.

Immediately, an incident came to his mind. "It's better than when you hexed that woman down in Wales that resulted in the store banning your books."

Affronted, she gasped and lightly punched his shoulder. Nonchalantly, Harry touched the place.

"I'll have you know she accused me of being a fraud because of my book, Quidditch and its Shortcomings. I wasn't going to stand there and take it." She sniffed. "Next time I see Ron, I'm hexing him too."

"That'll be Sunday, right?"

She cheered up. "Yes! You'll be there, won’t you? We're going to team up. I give you my certainty that he won't see it coming."

"Don't need one. Count me in." They shook hands.

For a while, they joked about everything and nothing. Dormant feelings erupted once more and he envisioned himself leaning in and asking her for dinner. Ron's face popped up every few seconds when Harry felt he was betraying his mate, but that long lost conversation in the cafe and Ginny's warmth quickly snubbed those feelings...

Ron would understand if he knew the entire story. He would understand if Harry gave him a detailed explanation of the beard he grew while he wallowed and how he couldn't drink English tea for six months following the cosy afternoon. And the light brushing of their lips.

After a pause, Ginny started talking with a serious tone and he hurried to snap his gaze away from her mouth.

"Why were you in the cafe that day? And why weren't you there..." She hesitated. "...the next day?"

"I had a day off and was wandering around. I was called in the next day. So, I wasn't in town for some time."

"That's why you skipped for a week." Her cheeks reddened. "Not that I stalked you. I'm not a creep. But I did return to that cosy number to get some inspiration."

He startled. "So, you were on about your first novel that day. Short and Weasley." His fists clenched as he recalled her devastated face. "Which wanker rejected that?"

She seemed surprised that he remembered. "Stephen Ainsworth. Tried to accept me when it did well with critics. By that time, I had decided not to give a rat's arse about him. Signed a deal with Blackthorne. Worked out much better for me."

"Good for you. What a wanker." He glanced at the refreshments table, feeling disappointed when he didn't spot any iced coffee.

"You read my book?" She brightened. As an afterthought, she asked, "And how did you..."

"They’re all amazing," he answered truthfully. "Here, wait a second."

Grunting, he tugged out the battered copy from his pocket. "Will you sign this for me?"

She took it. Almost reverentially, she caressed the spine of the book. "It looks like it has been read far too many times."

"It has," he agreed. "It's one of my favourites. Reminded me of you. Y'know, when you told me your name was Pinata."

"That kid pissed me off." She glanced at him almost shyly. "The foreward...You really helped with it."

"The foreward?"

"No. The whole writing. I wouldn't have given up. Way too stubborn for that. But you made everything...clearer. I wanted to thank you for that. Never had the chance. So..." She turned her body toward him. A pleasant flowery smell invaded his senses, tempting him to close his eyes. But he didn't, in the fear of missing the intense look, she fixed him with. "...thank you."

"I..." A knock interrupted them. "Yes?"

"Miss Weasley, we'll be starting soon."

"Yeah, I'll be there," she called out. Both of them sat silently as the person moved away.

She stood up. "Well, that's that. I'm happy I saw you today. Especially as my Auror." She tugged back her locks.

In a flash, Harry understood he wouldn't make the same mistake as he did that day. Letting her walk away, fully knowing something spectacular was slipping out of his hands. He had matured far too much to make the same mistake twice.

"Will you have a drink with me?" He blurted out. Ginny paused in front of the door, her hand on the handle.

"What?" She asked.

Swallowing his fears, he asked, this time not like a git. "After the book signing, will you have a drink with me?"

She kept quiet for some time increasing his trepidation. He shouldn't have asked.

Before he could laugh it off as a joke, she nodded. "Definitely. But you're not taking me out just for a drink."

"No?" He raised his eyebrow.

She fixed him with a blazing look, lighting his insides on fire.

"You're taking me out for dinner and a pint. You must never keep a Weasley away from their food."

* * *

"That'll be the end of today's session!"

Ginny vaguely registered Mr Johnson bidding goodbye to the stragglers. She was hyper-aware of Harry standing near her, his body heat permeating through the distance between them.

She was still reeling from the revelation. Gary, the bloke who jilted her (not that she was bitter about it), was not only named Harry Potter, but also an Auror and her brother's friend slash partner.

Everything was happening at once. She wanted it to stop.

Throughout the book signing, she had sought his attention by - she wasn't proud to say it - behaving like a scarlet woman. She had opened her hair from the hair tie, thrown her head back every time a fan said something witty and took off her jacket during a toilet break.

On his part, Harry Potter had barely taken his eyes off her. He looked like he was attentive in a professional capacity, but his slight widening of eyes when she showed off her bare shoulders had betrayed his interest.

How much would Ron complain if he found out his little sister was trying to… incite a pleasurable reaction from his mate?

On second thoughts, maybe not much.

Ron had been trying to set them up for such a long time. The number of stories he brought up was downright irritating. Ginny had been itching to find out Harry and stun him before this chance meeting. Now, she wanted to touch Ron's feet and cry with joy.

Not that she would. Her brother already had a big head. No need to inflate it even more.

"So, you're ready?" Harry moved near her. He had managed to get more handsome in the last three years. His hair was longer and the mass of black curls didn't riot as much as they did that day. There was a scar on his cheekbone too. The only thing that remained unchanged was his gorgeous green eyes. Brazenly, she might even say, he had become fitter - something she never factored in when she dreamed of him in the hours before dawn.

"I need to go to the loo. Why don't you meet me outside?" He nodded.

She headed towards the loo, not sparing a look towards Mr Johnson who gave her a few knowing stares over the course of the signing. She needed to focus on the outing now. Any distraction meant losing the miraculous chance.

She locked the loo door and stared at her appearance in the polished magical mirror. She looked pale and woefully unprepared for a night out with a man.

"Girl, you need to touch up on your makeup," the high-pitched voice of the mirror said. Ginny ignored it.

She took out her few makeup articles and tried to make herself look presentable. She didn't pay much attention to the mirror's harrumphs.

After she finished, she took a deep breath and said to her reflection:

"You're Ginny Weasley. You're no novice at seducing men. Right now, there's a fit man out there who wants to take you out for dinner. Someone, you've panted after for ages. He's too fit, and funny, and kind for you to stand over here and let this opportunity pass you by."

"Hear, hear!" The mirror cackled.

"And you don't accept defeat before even trying." She picked up her purse and walked out of the loo, the mirror bolstering her confidence by cheering, "You shag that bloke, girl!"

Harry was standing at the entrance of the store. He had his hands in his pockets but frequently ran his hand through his messy locks. His jittering calmed her down.

She wasn't the only one who was nervous.

"I'm ready," she announced. Harry's head shot up towards her and he gaped. "What?"

"You look beautiful." His voice softened, but he didn't look like he was lying. A lump formed in her throat. "Shall we go?"

He offered his hand. She intertwined their hands and they stepped out together.

"Let us have some fun."

* * *

  
  


Harry opened his eyes and immediately reached for the body next to him. The left side of the bed was empty and cold, triggering panic in his half-awake mind. Instantly, he reached for his wand. He didn't pay attention to the bright sunshine filtering through his curtains on a cheerful Sunday morning or his lack of clothes. He was already in Auror mode.

He stood up and was about to head towards the door when it opened.

"I thought I'd bring you some nourishment in bed after barely eating. Not that I'm complaining about this greeting." A tray of fresh toast and hot tea appeared in his vision, but Ginny's eyes wandering over his body attracted his attention. The relief at finding her unharmed slowly faded upon his realization of his nakedness.

"You were in the kitchen?" He moved over to his wardrobe. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants and took the tray from her. He stood transfixed for a while, ogling her body clothed in his t-shirt and a pair of knickers.

"I was. I wanted to prepare at least one meal." She slid her hands around his torso, prompting him to keep the tray on the bedside table.

"You must be famished after all the heavy lifting you did," she whispered in his ear, her breath sending shivers down his spine.

"I wanted to get you some breakfast before we face the Weasley army and pretend we didn't shag each other's brains out," he whispered back.

Disgruntled, she pushed him back. "You always ruin our flirty banter."

Harry laughed and followed Ginny onto the bed. He started lathering butter on a piece of toast.

"It's not my fault. We still have three hours until lunch." He added a bit of honey and brown sugar, unaware of the loving look she was sending him. "I'll drop you off at your flat and from there we can Apparate to the Burrow. Give them some excuse about becoming friends."

She raised an eyebrow and bit into her breakfast. "Friends? I don't do those things with my friends."

He snorted. "I hope so. No hesitation in laying low for a while, is there?" He cleared his throat. "Also, I was wondering..."

She paused. "What?"

"Would you like to go out with me?" He rushed through those words.

"You," she pointed with the half-eaten toast, "shagged me for more than a day in almost every corner of this flat. Had me shouting so loudly I thought your neighbours were going to get us evicted. And now, you're shy about asking me out for a date?"

"Hey. You should never presume what a woman wants."

"Harry," she rolled her eyes. "I woke up early and made us breakfast. Of course, I'd go on ten thousand dates with you."

"That's great." He wanted to get on the bed and sing like a songbird, but Ginny's knowing look prevented him from following through. She was too smug for her own good.

He wished he didn't find it as endearing as he did.

"Shit. I forgot to Floo Ron yesterday." She laid her head on his shoulder. Harry wondered if this was what his parents felt - a sense of contentment by just existing next to each other.

Whoa, don't go over there. You just reconnected with this girl. Don't scare her off, his brain warned.

"I'm pretty sure he will- '' His Floo activated and he heard the sound of someone coming in. He sat up, his mind in shambles over the possibility of one of the perps escaping. Beside him, Ginny sat up too. Before he could slip out of bed, he heard Ron's frantic yell.

"Harry! I can't find Ginny at her flat!"

"Fuck. How did the Floo activate?" Ginny sprang up from the bed, quickly shedding his shirt and slipping on her dress from two days ago. Harry slipped on the discarded shirt while he looked for a hiding place. Ron's footsteps were approaching at an alarming rate.

"He's using special permission. Only Ron has that. Maybe, you should-" The door crashed open and they came face-to-face with a panicking Ron.

A series of expressions slid over Ron's face: shock, anger, dismay, relief, smugness and at last, Molly Weasley's parental expression. Harry expected Ron to yell at him. He had the complete right to do so.

Instead, Ron pointed at Ginny and said: "No note. No Floo call. I've been searching for you for hours. Was it so hard to Floo me once and tell me you're at Harry's?"

Ginny folded her hands at her chest. Impossibly, she didn't look panicked. Her face was turning red with anger.

"I'm a big girl now, Ron. I'm a woman. I can go home with anyone I want."

"I'm not saying that! You should tell me where you are. You think I enjoy keeping tabs on you?"

"Seems like it. You don't have much of a life from what I can see."

"Just wait until Mum hears about this."

Harry's brain caught up. "Ron. You won't tell Mrs Weasley, will you?"

Ron opened his mouth to tell him 'no', but Harry’s pleading face must have convinced him. Ron gawked at the two of them, lack of certainty in his features.

"How did you guys..." He gestured vaguely, earning an eye roll from his sister.

"Oh god, Ron. We knew each other from before. We met up later and spent two days having a marathon of romping. Now, will you keep your mouth shut and not broadcast our tenuous yet extremely passionate relations?"

"Please, Ron," Harry begged.

Ron sighed, indicating he was going to back off.

"Fine. Try to behave yourselves today. No doing anything in the Burrow. Later, I need a word by word retelling of how this happened."

"Absolutely, mate." Ron could even watch the memories if it meant he was about to back off for now.

"Good." Ron quickly hugged his sister and patted Harry's shoulder. "I'm off now. Didn't get any breakfast for this git." He noticed the discarded tray and took it. "I'm borrowing this. Bye!"

As soon as her brother left, Ginny turned towards Harry. "We have maximum a week before he loses control and spews about us. What should we do with our limited time?"

There were still two hours left until they needed to appear at the Burrow. Plenty of time for one more tussle in the sheets.

He pulled her closer and dipped down his head.

"I hope you don't write sex scenes." He kissed her. The sensation was still the same as the first time. He gently led her to the bed, ignoring her giggling. "Stop. I'm going to start feeling self-conscious." He pushed her back. She clasped her hands around his head, pulling him down with her.

She pulled back to give him a smoulder. "We don't want that, do we?"

As she surged up to kiss him, Harry's mind flashed back to the night when she kissed him with the same suddenness.

They had time now.

* * *

_ "To the stranger Gary,  _

_ Parallel lines meet at infinity, just as I met you. In echoes from that time we met, I'll remember that. _

_ Yours, Pinata." _

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
